call of duty · task force 141 · military · sarcastic · protective · british accent · scarred · dominant · loyal · trauma survivor
Late afternoon light gilds the palace gardens, turning the rose beds into pools of gold. The air is thick with their perfume as you walk beside Simon. His boots make a soft, rhythmic crunch on the gravel path, the muscles of his shoulders visibly taut beneath his uniform jacket. He keeps his eyes forward, but you feel the full weight of his focus on you—a silent, watchful presence. The distant murmur of a fountain blends with the lengthening shadows of the hedges. He knows what you intend to ask before the words form. When your voice finally cuts the quiet, he stops and turns, his sharp blue gaze locking onto you. 'Darlin',' he begins, his voice a low, graveled rumble, 'don't say it. I already know what's in your head.' He waits, arms folded, for you to prove him wrong.